


Commit

by Eleanor_Lambb



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Grinding, No penetration, Other, Soft sex, Two lesbians in love, going from casual to serious, going to a club and just going fucking NUTS, wraith is a lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleanor_Lambb/pseuds/Eleanor_Lambb
Summary: Continuation ofThis Isn’t A Date





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> :) first part of a fic....this makes more sense if youve read "this isn't a date", my previous blood/wraith fic.....might write some more other fics but ive been so busy w a bigger work that i felt bad for letting this sit in my drafts, so i decided to post this first part and then add the more serious smut after
> 
> i input a LOT of my own personal headcanons in here so i play fast and loose w canonn LUL
> 
> also wraith is a lesbian
> 
> and also like i LOVE bloodhound and wish a hot nb hunter wld kiss me v_____v
> 
> also i dont use.....the Voice of the Void enough, like the ability to see "what ifs" and "what will happen" is so interesting but a little diffuclt to write, so im sorry if it feels weird/awkward at time V__V

**Left. Left left left left -**

Wraith _shoops_ out of existence, the world around her tinging white, blazing purple, noise fading. Phasing through dimensions, Wraith's skin buzzed, goosebumping at freezing cold. She sprints to the left, where the Voice called to her an opponent. Multiple visions, mirrors that stretch on and on in hazy white and purple. She pays attention, watches the visions of all, but only focuses on one. She can see the flickering form of Gibraltar, gun trained on Wraith's previous location. She leaps onto a low concrete wall, using it as a springboard to launch herself in his direction.

An eruption of the world, and sound returned, Wraith's form beelining for Gibraltar. His head turns too late.

Wraith grabs at his shoulder armor, twisting her center of gravity to sit on his shoulder, drawing one kunai knife. She digs the blade deep into his neck. Gibraltar's form fizzles, static flickering. He erupts into data, leaving behind his equipment. Wraith somersaults in front, twisting around and planting a foot on top of his dead box. Purple and white energy swirls around her arms, curls up her legs, eyes blazing white.

YOU ARE THE CHAMPION.

The crowd roared all around her.

 

 

  
-

 

 

Lifeline is the first to congratulate her.

"Gloomy!" Lifeline says, grabbing Wraith's hand, "Ugh, _finally_! I thought Gibraltar would whack you out of existence for _sure_."

Faking hurt, Wraith grabs at her chest, shoulders slumping, "You think so little of me that I couldn't take Gibraltar?"

"It took you long enough," Bangalore quips, gun in her lap, "You had a pretty long dry spell for a few weeks."

"Better late than never."

Mirage peeks his head around the lockers, "And Caustic is back on the bottom of the list," Mirage shakes his head, "God, I hate that guy."

There's a short round of chatter before Gibraltar comes sauntering in, big smile on his face.

"Wraith!" He says.

Before Wraith can flit away, Gibraltar moves a large arm around Wraith's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. Lifeline stifles a laugh.

"You got me good, Void Walker," He says. His tone turns slightly, just slightly, sinister, leaning into Wraith's face, "You won't next time."

He drops Wraith, who should feel uncomfortable and threatened, but isn't. Instead, she gives him a lopsided half - smile and a wary once - over.

"You coming out with us tonight, Wraith?" Bangalore asks, equipment already off and stowed away.

"Where?"

"Thought Pritzi's would be good - there'll be lots of fans," Bangalore says with a wink.

Pritzi's was a high - scale club in the upper quads, crawling with the upper - crust, snotty rich kids, divas, and men who's teeth are so white it's unhealthy to stare at their smiles. Wraith liked going there to intimidate them. It felt childish, but mostly it just felt right. _I'm here, assholes, try and turn your nose up at someone like me._ Wraith didn't know why she felt that way.

"Sounds like a plan," Wraith says, taking off her equipment, "Is everyone going?"

"Everyone except Caustic," Mirage quips, "Thank _God_."

The group chats, slowly exiting the arena lockers, Wraith still behind to put away her equipment. The doors close, the chatter cutting off, leaving Wraith alone.

**Behind you.**

Wraith doesn't turn as a large hand crawls up her back.

"You looked very good out there," Bloodhound says, "Impressive, as always."

It's been a few months since their first liaison in Bloodhound's apartment. They've had multiple late - night hookups together since, right under the nose of everyone around them. Wraith is thankful for how discrete Bloodhound has been, but she enjoys the lingering touches, the stares from behind those large lenses of their mask. It's stirs something she can't place in her chest.  
  
Wraith smirks, pulling off her shirt. A finger traces up her spine, Bloodhound humming softly.

"Are you going to go out tonight?" She asks them.

"I am," Bloodhound touches the base of Wraith's neck, "Hm. Have you ever thought of an undercut?"

Wraith pulls on a new pair of pants, "What's with you and my hair?"

"I like your hair. It's soft, and has a nice color," Bloodhound responds, "Plus, your style is unique to you. There's a lot you can do with hair. It's a form of expression, just like clothing, or tattoos."

"Do you have any tattoos?" Wraith asks.

Bloodhound chuckles, but doesn't respond. Wraith pulls on a fresh shirt, breaking the contact for a second, Bloodhound immediately tracing their fingers back along Wraith's neck as soon as her shirt is back on. Wraith flushes as they bring their hand around, softly thumbing at her jawline and chin.

Just as quickly as Wraith raises her chin into the touch, Bloodhound retracts their hand.

"I'll see you later tonight, _fallegur_."

 

 

-

 

 

The lights of the club pulse harshly against Wraith's eyes. She leans over the edge on an upper balcony, arms crossed over the bannister, watching a sea of people do all sorts of things drunk people do. Dance, drink more, vomit in the corner......do _other_ things in the corners that aren't vomiting, but Wraith wished it were.

She fixes her shirt. She's wearing an ensemble that echoes a faint familiarity in her mind, like she's worn something of the same caliber in a previous time. She's wearing a short sleeve shirt with a mesh longsleeve, baggy cargos tucked into short tabi boots, and a long sleeveless trenchcoat - in all black, of course.

She tilts her head right. Lifeline and Bangalore are dancing together, swarmed by fans and paparazzi. Wraith laughs at how many tabloid papers that'll be publishing articles about this 'relationship.' Just past them, Gibraltar and Mirage are chatting at the upstairs bar, throwing credits at the bartender. Mirage is leaning a little too close, hanging on Gibraltar's arm. **Going home together. They'll both wake up with headaches, sore**. Pathfinder is on the left side of the dancefloor, dancing his sensors out with a thin figure in a long dress **. He's going to see that partner again and again in the later months.**

Wraith had been there for almost two hours already, and Bloodhound hasn't show up.

She looks straight again. _Am I being stood up? No, Bloth would never do that to me....would they?_

 **Left**.

Tilting her head left, Wraith expects to see Bloodhound, but she scowls when she sees a young man with a crewcut walk her way. Wraith rolls her eyes, leaning her chin against her palm.

"You look like you could use some company, beautiful," The man says, sliding up to her side, "I brought you a drink."

The man places both cups down. He has an almost orange complexion, teeth unnaturally white. He has a large pair of expensive - looking sunglasses pushed up his nose, covering his eyes. Wraith eyes his outfit. He, like every other person she's had the displeasure of being approached by, is wearing a designer white track - suit, pants tucked into sneakers that come up to his calves.

Wraith grimaces, turning back to the crowd.

The young man clears his throat, "Uh, excuse me, you're Wraith, right?"

Wraith almost laughs at the sudden manners this club kid mustered up, but she continues to ignore him.

The young man leans over the bannister with her, "It's a - "

"Excuse me," a familiar voice interjects.

Both Wraith and the young man turn, and Bloodhound stands behind. They're dressed in their usual 'party outfit,' which is a casual version of their arena uniform, with less armour and less trimmings, in soft browns, with a maroon bodysuit covering their neck and hands. The outfit does nothing to hide their broadness. In their hand, they hold a large, orange drink with a twisty straw.

"Is this young man troubling you, Wraith?" Bloodhound asks with a tilt of their head.

The young man shakes his head quickly, "N - no, sir - uh, _ma'am_ \- er - " he motions to the two drinks on the ledge, "I was just...bringing her a drink, see?"

Bloodhound laughs, loud, "Wraith doesn't _drink_. The entire system knows that," Bloodhound takes a step forward. They have a clear inch on the man, mask just a hair's width away, "Unless you live under a rock."

The man's face goes red, and he quickly apologizes, walking off.

Wraith smiles, "About time you showed up, I was getting bored."

"I apologize," Bloodhound pushes the two drinks to the side, taking up the space where the young man once was. The pulsing lights dance on the lenses of Bloodhound's mask.

"What took you so long?"

Bloodhound stares into the crowd, "I was praying."

"It takes you four hours to pray?" Wraith asks them.

Bloodhound brings their straw to an open nozzle, sucking in liquid, smacking their lips from behind their mask, "Only on days I lose. Especially so early in the round."

"So it's a form of punishment?"

"I prefer to call is discipline, but yes."

Together, they stand in a silence of companionship. It's comfortable, arms touching, watching the waves of people sway and shift. With Bloodhound, Wraith finds that there's no need to speak.

Bloodhound finishes their drink.

"This place is awful," They say.

Wraith huffs a laugh, "You said it."

"You wanna get out of here?" Bloodhound asks with a bump to Wraith's arm.

"You don't have to ask twice."

Bloodhound grips Wraith's hand tight as they maneuver her through the crowd, downstairs. Wraith ignores Mirage and Lifeline calling them from the bar.

It's not as crowded outside, and Bloodhound quickly ducks them into the side alley.

"Where are we going, Bloth?" Wraith asks, ducking under pipes and steam vents.

"Some place more private," Bloodhound responds.

Wraith grins, "What, gonna give me that haircut?"

Bloodhound laughs loudly, picking up their pace.

The two run down the alleys, ducking and dodging strangers and random pipes and other obstacles. Eventually, Wraith slips out of Bloodhound's grip. With a wide grin, Wraith channels the power of the Void, and - _schoop_ \- she's traversing the rooftops above, keeping an eye on Bloodhound below. Bloodhound is sprinting full speed, barrelling through the alleys.

The air of the city on the rooftops is brisker, _freer_ , carrying Wraith from building to building.

She never loses sight of Bloodhound.

Eventually, Wraith stops on a far rooftop, watching Bloodhound easily scale the side of the building. She breathes heavy, imagining an array of muscles under their outfit. Bloodhound's chest heaves as they pull themself up.

"That was.... _exhilarating_ ," Bloodhound gasps, "I haven't run that hard in a while."

The rooftop is maybe twenty - feet - by - twenty - feet, railings on each side. Wraith moves stray hairs from her sticky forehead, walking to the North end and looking out at the city. A million different lights dot the horizon, the sky above almost reflecting the city in it's own cosmic way. Skyscrapers and other tall buildings spear the night sky.

"It's beautiful up here," Wraith breathes, holding onto the railing, watching dots of vehicles and people crowd and whirr by. The Voice of the Void hums, as it always did in Bloodhound's presence.

"Not as beautiful as you," Bloodhound says, voice strained from exertion.

Wraith huffs a laugh.

"Oh, you don't believe it?" Bloodhound leans against the railing to her right.

"I believe _you_ believe it."

Bloodhound laughs, "And I _do,_ " they delicately brush a stray lock of hair back behind Wraith's ear, " _Svo mjög fallegt_."

Wraith ducks her head away with a grimace, "Don't, I'm all sweaty."

"Yes, and you still look very, very beautiful."

Sometimes, when she's alone, Wraith stares into the mirror, tracing every line in her face, every line and scar. She never felt that she was beautiful. Maybe cute in a plain way, but never beautiful. She liked the way Bloodhound said it.

"Did you hear about the new guy coming to the arena? Octane?" Wraith asks them, ducking their compliments.

"Yes. Some daredevil looking for another thrill. He's supposed to be well known, but if he is, I've never heard of him. Gibraltar has been acting strange ever since his announcement."

"Think he's nervous about his rank?"

Bloodhound laughs, " _No._ Gibraltar doesn't care about rank or money. It feels more....what is the word. _Einka_. In English. It's...close to home?"

"Personal?"

Bloodhound claps, "That's it! _Personal_. Thank you."

Wraith cocks her head with a smile, "What makes you think they're connected?"

Bloodhound pushes from the railing, pacing the rooftop.

"Gibraltar is good under  _þrýstingur_ ,  but that only goes so far. It only takes a few moments of questioning to crack him for information. _Eins og sprunga skelfiskur með hníf_ ," Bloodhound turns back around, crossing their arms, one hand on their chin, "His body language betrays him as well. He visibly tenses when our new arrival is brought up, becoming quiet in conversation. Whatever their connection, it deeply troubles him."

They pick their head up, arms dropping to their sides.

"What?" Wraith asks.

"Oh, nothing," Bloodhound says as they step closer, hands clasped behind their back.

Wraith crosses her arms, "You can't just say that. Tell me."

Bloodhound sighs, "It's just that, well, you look very beautiful with the light of the city bordering your body."

Wraith scoffs, looking down at her boots, "You're a real charmer, you know that?"

"It's hard not to compliment you," Bloodhound steps closer, tucking another stray lock behind Wraith's ear, "Ah, how your eyes seem to glow in the night."

Wraith feels herself flush. She grabs the wrist hovering behind her ear. She kisses up their wrist, on the inside of their palm. Bloodhound's breath hitches. Wraith could feel the intense stare behind their mask. Bloodhound closes what little space was left between them.

"I am not kidding, you know. You truly are breathtaking," They press their chest to Wraith's, gently pushing her into the railing, "From your soft hair, to your shining eyes, to the roundness of your face, it's all a beauty I've never had the pleasure of knowing before," they gently coax their arm from Wraith's grip to cup her cheek.

Grinning, Wraith lifts herself onto the railing behind, looping her arms around their neck. With Wraith sitting on the railing, she and Bloodhound are the same height.

"I hadn't realized that I was missing anything in my life, until I happened across you," Bloodhound continues, coaxing Wraith's legs apart to settle between then.

"Careful," Wraith says with a playful kiss to their mask, "That almost sounded serious."

"And what if it was?" Bloodhound asks her. Quickly, quietly, barely a thought in the air.

Wraith pauses. Her hands drop to Bloodhound's shoulders. The silence between them is long, sucking the sounds of the city out of the air.

 _Romance. Feelings. Serious intimacy_. It all swirled in Wraith's chest, confusing but warm. Wraith couldn't properly name the sensation, and that unknowing prompted her to grip the sides of Bloodhound's mask. It felt natural. It felt _good_. Her legs clasp around Bloodhound.

The Void sent Wraith predictions, alternate timelines, scraps of what if and what could be. Bloodhound, however, was a blank spot. The only person who's future Wraith couldn't be certain of.

What Wraith wanted more than anything, maybe even her _memories_ if she wanted to be dramatic, was a future with Bloodhound by her side.

"I wouldn't mind," Wraith breathes, kissing them.

"Would it scare you if I wanted to be honest?" Bloodhound asks, and to Wraith, _they_ sound scared.

"Of course not."

"I," Their hands grasp Wraith's thighs, "Want to give myself to you. My whole being. _Everything_ that I have. I cannot bear a moment without knowing that I'm _yours_."  
  
Their words suck the air out of Wraith's chest. She grasps Bloodhound tightly, as if they could slip away with the wind.

" _Please_ ," Bloodhound's voice drops to a heavy whisper, " _Segðu mér að ég sé þín."_

The words flow naturally from between Wraith's lips, "I _belong_ with you. _Here_. _Right_ now. In the years to come. In forever, if you want it to be," Everything felt like it was falling into place, the world aligning itself just right, with Wraith and Bloodhound right in the center, "I like the way you make me feel, like I'm the only girl in the room, the only one in your eyes. I don't want to be anywhere else, or _with_ anyone else."

Bloodhound's body is deathly still, holding Wraith tightly against their chest, listening. Wraith lays a gentle kiss on the center of their mask, turning her head so their cheeks touch, whispering into a non - existent ear.

"Take me home, Bloth."


	2. Complete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh ok...........im so crazy im so sorry ths is so late forgive me. also i should compile a google doc of all my Bloodhound headcanons and also how Wraith's Voice of the Void and her Void powers work

Bloodhound doesn't have to be told twice. The trip back to their apartments is long. They stop every few yards, Wraith kissing her beloved, and Bloodhound groping Wraith through her clothes. Bloodhound almost half - carries Wraith the rest of the way home, Wraith opening portals, the two traversing across the rooftops and alleys until they finally arrive at their complex. They barely make it up the stairs of their complex, reaching the floor with Wraith's apartment. Wraith struggles to get her keys out of her coat, opening the door, partially throwing Bloodhound inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

Wraith's apartment is the same size, but not nearly as decorated as Bloodhound's. The furniture is all black, a couch and a coffee table, walls a light grey, like when she first moved in. Wraith undresses as she leads Bloodhound into her bedroom, Bloodhound pulling at her clothes from behind. Wraith makes it out of her trenchcoat, her boots, and her t - shirt, leaving behind a trail of clothes in her hallway.

Wraith's room is dark grey, clothes strewn around, bed pushed up against the wall, completely bare of anything flashy or homey.

"If I knew you were coming over, I would've cleaned up a little," Wraith says. Bloodhound doesn't respond with anything more than a low sigh, pressing against Wraith from behind, their head pressed against the back of her neck.

The two usually met up at Bloodhound's place, mostly because Wraith liked being over there, but she had a feeling Bloodhound got a slight kick out of her being naked in their bed. Wraith flips on the bedroom light, but Bloodhound quickly shuts it back off. Bright moonlight and the neon lights of the signs outside illuminate Wraith's bedroom. While a normal person would be annoyed by the bright lights, Wraith found it somewhat comforting.

She turns, and Bloodhound grabs her by her sides, lifting her up. She wraps her legs around their waist, planting sloppy kisses on their mask as they carry her to her bed. Bloodhound lays her out, pulling at the hem of her pants.

" _Ség er þín, ség er þín_ ," They repeat, " _Ég elska þig_."

Wraith tightens her legs around them, turning her center of gravity, using the momentum to pin Bloodhound to the bed. They huff a laugh. She straddles their hips, and Wraith pins their wrists to the bed, beside their head. She kisses their mask, down the fabric of their neck, down their coat, releasing her grip on their wrists. She kisses their clothes, going lower. Bloodhound's hands run through her hair, pulling the tie out of her bun. Free of it's tie, Wraith's jet black hair just brushes her shoulders as she kisses down Bloodhound's stomach.

She takes a second, looking up. Bloodhound is sitting up on their elbows, watching Wraith with lenses that reflect the pinks and reds of the neon signs from outside.

Wraith had never touched Bloodhound before, not in the same way they teased and pleasured her. They forbid it, becoming meek, almost uncomfortable when Wraith brought up the idea of returning the many, many favours Wraith had incurred from them. They were happy, almost _too_ happy, to watch Wraith squirm and moan underneath them (or over them.) But, worried that she would end up pushing Bloodhound away, Wraith quickly became content with being handled and held by Bloodhound and their broad form. They alluded to pleasuring themself afterwards, when Wraith was far and gone, and Wraith had no problem with respecting the only line in the sand Bloodhound had drawn.

"Go ahead, _fallegur_ ," Bloodhound says, " _Ég elska þig_.  _Þetta er þitt_. I'm yours."

The way they said ' _I'm yours_ ' stirred an overwhelming, almost primal feeling in Wraith. She'd had thoughts and fantasies of having Bloodhound under her, unabashed and naked, begging for her. Wraith respected them and their boundaries, and never voiced this want. But, dangerously so, Bloodhound was giving her permission to touch and explore.

Without any hesitation, Wraith kisses over the area between Bloodhound's legs. An almost growl stuttered from Bloodhound's throat as she kissed their core through their pants. They gently thread their fingers through Wraith's hair. _I still can't feel anything through Bloth's pants, but they're enjoying themselves, so I must be doing something right_. She adds more pressure, mouthing over them, not even attempting to stop herself from slobbering over Bloodhound's clothes.

" _Wait_ , wait," Bloodhound says, husky, "Let me undo myself here."

Wraith sits up, batting their hands away, like Bloodhound had done to her so many times before, and she undoes the straps of their weathered boots, throwing them behind. She pushes up their coat, undoing their leather utility belt. Wraith tugs their pants down, and a pair of weathered boxers. Underneath their clothes, close to their skin, they wore a maroon bodysuit. They're soaked through the fabric, the bodysuit clinging to their strong thighs. As far as Wraith can see, there's no opening.

She pulls Bloodhound's pants and boxers off of their legs, throwing them somewhere along with their discarded boots. She pulls Bloodhound's legs over her shoulders, sitting up on her knees, Bloodhound upsidedown in her lap. She sucks at the patch between their thighs, licking a stripe down.

Being allowed to touch and please, Wraith's mind blooms with familiarity. She feels the ghosts of touches, loving and warm. Faces and bodies were nonexistent, but the sensations were still there.

Bloodhound whines, _whines_. The noise shoots through Wraith's body right to between her legs. Wraith looks down, seeing Bloodhound's head thrown back, neck bared, hands grasping at the sheets.  _How long has it been since Bloth's been touched_? She worries her lips over Bloodhound, breathing hot air over them, watching their body twitch and hear them gasp and swear from under their mask. Wraith grins, relishing in the euphoria of having broad, strong, collected Bloodhound a writhing mess underneath her. _I've only just started._

With a boost in her ego, Wraith places her whole mouth over Bloodhound's groin, sucking hard, tongue feeling what Wraith wanted to guess was the folds of an opening, an engorged nub brushing her nose. Bloodhound is soaked clean through the fabric of their body suit, Wraith licking up salty fluid. She licks up, tracing the nub with her tongue. Bloodhound moans loudly, hands gripping the sheets of Wraith's bed so tightly she was afraid they would rip.

She breaks from their groin, planting kisses to the inside of their thighs, "How's it feel to be on the other end, Bloth?"

Bloodhound laughs, wiping sweat from a non - existent forehead, "It's almost undescribable. It's been quiet some time since I've been... _attended_ to. If I knew you would be so passionate, I would have told you how I felt much earlier."

Wraith chuckles, her hands moving down to Bloodhound's stomach, "What, no other girls banging down your door?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Are you so shocked that I would only be interested in one partner at a time? I may be a hunter, but hunting for bedmates is not really my style."

Wraith's chest swells. _I'm their only._ She kisses their thigh. _And they're my only,_ "Must be hard trying to stay anonymous on the dating scene," Wraith jokes, unbuttoning Bloodhound's coat up to the bottom of their chest.

Bloodhound laughs, "You're quiet correct. Especially being so well - known like we are," their head shakes, "I regret styling my masks all the same. I cannot walk down the street without being stopped."

Wraith moves Bloodhound's legs off her shoulders. Bloodhound inches themself away from the edge of the bed, giving Wraith more space. She stands, taking off her pants and underwear, and she hears them suck in a breath. Bloodhound is lying down on their back, knees dangling off the edge of the bed. Wraith crawls over them, pressing both of Bloodhound's knees up to their chest.

"You're so warm, Bloth," Wraith says, feeling Bloodhound radiate heat.

Bloodhound breathes a laugh, hands by their head and gripping the black sheets under them.

"You look good down there," Wraith pushes their hips together, feeling Bloodhound's wetness, "Might rip my sheets, if you're not careful."

Another breathy laugh. Bloodhound tilts their head to the side, averting a non - existent gaze _. Is that bashfulness I see?_ A shiver runs down Wraith's spine.

"You like it when I talk like this?" She rolls her hips, "You always did like it when I was moaning under you. You like my voice?"

"I like everything about you, _fallegur_ ," Bloodhound says, gloved hands moving up and down Wraith's arms, "But I have to admit, you make such sweet music."

Wraith smirks, "Let me play for you, then," And she grinds her hips down.

She lets breathy gasps escape her as she rocks into Bloodhound, but she suppresses the urge to shake the windows with her voice to listen to her partner. Bloodhound voice is lost with each rock of Wraith's hips. _Sounds like they haven't been touched in years._

There's so much unknown wrapped within the layers Bloodhound wears, hidden behind a mask and prayer. Wraith is determined to undo every barrier that stands between her and that mystery. Lost in instinct, Wraith pushes forward down, pressing Bloodhound into the mattress. She kisses them, rapidly moving her hips.

The control Bloodhound had given her was _all encompassing_. The vulnerability, the _trust_ Bloodhound was showing, it popped like a bottle rocket through Wraith's chest, dipping lower and pooling into the bottom of her stomach.

Bloodhound grabs her face, holding her, head tilting, reciprocating in their own way. Their legs wrap around Wraith's hips, hugging her tighter, hands coaxing through her hair.

"Wraith, _vinsamlegast_ , Wraith,  _þarna, þarna_ \- "

To hear Bloodhound beg for her was _intoxicating_. Wraith's core pulses, eyes fluttering. She dips her head into Bloodhound's neck, biting down on a covered pulse. Bloodhound clutches her closer, closer, closer still, like they were trying to force their bodies to meld together, like they never wanted to let Wraith go.

" _Wraith_ \- "

Hands pull, then smooth down her hair.

" _There_ \- "

Gut coiling, Wraith can't stop her hips, kissing down Bloodhound's neck. She smirks into their ear.

"I've got you," she says, "Bloth, I've got you, Bloth."

Bloodhound lets out a low whine, then goes silent, their hips seizing. Their fingers dig into Wraith's back and shoulders, and Wraith knows they'll leave bruises.

Feeling herself teetering over her own peak, she grasps onto the sheets of her bed, bucking down until her mind blanks out and pleasure blooms from between her legs. She collapses on top of Bloodhound, leaning down all her weight. She kisses over their neck, their mask, over the lenses of their goggles. Bloodhound is still as stone, and until she feels their legs slacken off from around her hips, Wraith thinks them asleep.

Bloodhound doesn't speak, instead humming a quiet tune. Wraith grins, leaning back down, letting herself relax against their broad body. Her shin is pressed into their chest, looking up at them as they look down at her.

" _Kæri minn Wraith,"_ they say, ghosts of words in the air, " _Þú ert svo falleg_."

"Hm?"

" _Ég elska þig_ ," their hands coax up and down Wraith's back, " _Ég elska þig_. _Ég veit ekki hvort þú munt aldrei átta sig á því hversu mikið ég geri_."

Though she picked up some Icelandic through her time spent with Bloodhound, she still has trouble deciphering the language. Wraith crosses her arms, resting her chin on top, listening carefully.

" _Þú ert svo sætur_ ," Bloodhound brushes back her dark hair, tucking pieces behind her ear, " _Svo yndislegt_ ," they trace a finger delicately down her face. Their head cocks, and they press a finger to the tip of their nose, "Boop."

Wraith snorts, watching lights dance off of the lenses of their mask. Their finger moves from Wraith's nose, to her ear.

"Have you ever thought of piercing your ears?" They ask her, rolling the lobe between their thumb and index finger.

"I have. I might get gauges, those looked badass."

Bloodhound hums, "I think you'd look well with a cuff."

Wraith circles a finger on Bloodhound's chest, "Do you have any piercings, Bloth?"

"I would love some, but the metal doesn't do so well in extreme temperatures. If I were able to, I'd get a," they touch the space between Wraith's eyes, on the bridge of her nose, "A bridge piercing. I've always dreamed of having my chest pierced, too."

"Oooh, _sexy_ ," Wraith smiles. She sits up, dragging her hands down their chest. She squeezes her breasts together, "Maybe I should get those, too."

Bloodhound chuckles, "We could match," they slide their hands up her abdomen, "But I hear having them makes you much more...sensitive," with that, they tweak at Wraith's nipples through her mesh undershirt. Wraith laughs, Bloodhound thumbing at her lips. She kisses padded fingertips.

"How are you feeling, Bloth?" She asks them.

"By the Allfather, I've never felt better," they answer, honestly,

Wraith can physically feel a blush cover her skin.

" _Það var allt sem ég hafði vonað eftir_ ," they push themself up, pressing their forehead to hers, " _Þú ert mér allt._ "

Wraith doesn't understand what Bloodhound is saying, but the weight of their words runs warm and deep within her, like her body understood even though her brain could not.

"Exceeding expectations?" She plays with the edge of their mask.

"You always do," their voice softens.

"You sound tired, Bloth. Did all this action tire you out?"

Instead of a laugh, Wraith receives a pause. A quiet, gentle beat of soundless fondness. Bloodhound breathes slow, chest rising, falling, rising, falling.

"I've been all over this solar system," they whisper, "Systems beyond. I've been travelling for so, so long, surviving on what a world had to offer. The gods have tested me every day I have breathed. The Apex Arena was just meant to be another stop. Another challenge to test myself against. More victories for the Allfather and all the gods above."

Wraith closes her eyes.

"I am tired, my lovely. I've visited the one planet I don't want to leave."

A hot tear rolls down Wraith's cheek. Overwhelmed with pure feeling, she holds the front of their coat. Bloodhound sighs, long and low, wiping away her tears.

" _Svo falleg, jafnvel þegar þú grætur_."

Wraith kisses them, soft, more tears rolling down her cheeks.

For one, blissful moment, the rest of the world melts away. There's no Void, no Voices, no unknown past. There's just Bloodhound, holding her. Their hands cradle her face, still speaking.

"I love you," they say, "We were always destined to meet."

Wraith shivers. And quietly, to herself, she thinks maybe this was why she never saw any contingency of a future with Bloodhound. _The Voices led me to them, like any other path would lead me astray_. If Wraith had ever explained the way she saw these visions, these possibilities, she'd explain them as though they were a hallway of infinite mirros. She could see outlines, of people, events, all converging, weaving together in hazy ghosts. Each possibility was one, single pane of glass set into the window of time, space, and existence.

And somewhere down that long, glass - ladened hallway, there's a visage of Wraith and Bloodhound, together, right smack into the center.

Bloodhound caresses her, compliments her in mixture of English and Icelandic. Wraith finds herself lying on her side, facing Bloodhound, their hands coaxing up and down her back. It's so gentle, so full of love. They pull her closer, until her head rests against their chest, and each loving word they speak reverberates through Wraith as a soft rumble. Their legs tangle, Wraith fitting perfectly against their broad form. Their fingers lock.

"I see why you've chosen this apartment," Bloodhound says, quiet, "You are brilliant in this light, like a _stjarna_."

"What's _stjarna_?"

"A star. Brilliant and magnificent, turning the heads of everyone in the room."

They lay in loving silence. Bloodhound falls asleep fast, content, and their body is warm as Wraith cuddles closer, fitting herself more into their side.

There's more than just the hum of the Void in her head this time when she sleeps. There's the soft, even beat of Bloodhound's heart in her ear.


End file.
